


Dragon Rider

by stupidsexysock



Series: Dragon Riders [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dragon sex, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Pregnancy, erotic birth, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidsexysock/pseuds/stupidsexysock
Summary: A farm to the north had found the back half of a cow, cold and bloody on the ground; the dragon had ripped the poor animal in two and taken the front half to slake its hunger. The same farm had been attacked a second time, and the dragon had nearly carried off the farmer's eldest son. The beast was clearly mad with hunger. It had to be put down, and Osric was going to be the one to do it.-A knight tries to slay a dragon, and gets knocked up instead.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Dragon
Series: Dragon Riders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126364
Comments: 6
Kudos: 152





	1. Mating

Osric squeezed the grip of his sword tighter as he stepped out of the light and into the darkness of the cave. From tip to pommel wasn't even as long as the foreleg of the dragon he was hunting, but he had been training to use this weapon since he was a boy. The shield strapped to his left arm hardly weighed him down at all. He moved as if he'd been born to slay dragons, even though this was his first hunt.

This particular beast had been terrorizing farmers for miles around its lair. It carried off a dozen sheep from a flock grazing too near its den, taking them by stealth in the night, so the shepherds couldn't see it coming. A farm to the north had found the back half of a cow, cold and bloody on the ground; the dragon had ripped the poor animal in two and taken the front half to slake its hunger. The same farm had been attacked a second time, and the dragon had nearly carried off the farmer's eldest son. The beast was clearly mad with hunger. It had to be put down, and Osric was going to be the one to do it.

He'd always imagined a dragon's lair as a wet and dreary cave, with bones crunching under his boots and the walls all clawed up by talons. This dragon had made its home in an abandoned structure carved into the living rock of the mountain Osric had climbed to find it. The walls were marked by the hands of man, not the claws of beasts, and a set of stone steps led up further into the rock.

At first Osric walked in near darkness, with only the glowing symbols his lord's wizard had painted on his shield to light his path. Soon he came upon a shaft of light in the staircase, and looked up at a hole bored through the rock to the daylight above. It was a wonder it hadn't been covered up by rocks and debris in the years since this place had been abandoned. But soon enough he came across another shaft, and then a third. He hardly even needed the wizard's work to find his path.

The stairs opened up onto a wide expanse of bare rock. This too must had been carved by men, because there cliff face that the stairs emerged from was carved with a battle scene. Osric turned to admire it, wondering at who might have spent months chipping away at the stone. Time and winter storms had blurred the finer details, but he could see the shapes of men riding not on horses but on the backs of dragons. This place must be a hundred years old, from the time before King Harold had ordered the dragon riders to slay their mounts and abandon their posts in the high peaks. The riders had risen up in defiance of their king, and the war had been long and bloody, but in the end the survivors had flown away and left Harold's realm to the godly men who did not fraternize with beasts.

Osric found himself looking at a scene at the bottom of a carving, where a downed dragon and a knight lay bleeding in a final embrace. The dragon's forelegs were curled protectively around its rider, and the knight's arm was flung over the dragon's wounded breast. He'd never been clear on what the stories meant when they said that the dragon riders fraternized with their mounts. He'd assumed they slept in their lairs and fed on raw meat like them, but the carving made the relationship seem more intimate.

He walked along the carved wall, trying to find the dragon's bolthole, but the only doorway he came across was blocked by tumbled stones. They'd been there a long time, because moss was growing up over the rocks. He paced the outer perimeter of the flat ground, looking out across a chasm to see where the dragon might have flown to. At the very edge, he looked back and up, past where the carving ended, and saw a wide-mouthed cave with an arched roof that must have been hewn from the rock by human hands. A dragon could fly up there comfortably, but a man couldn't.

Still, Osric was a good climber and he'd always had a head for heights. He took a few minutes to sheath his sword and strap his shield securely to his back, then began to scale the figure of a dragon rearing and sending a gout of flames from its mouth. Years of freezes and thaws had cracked the rock, providing handholds. It wasn't easy going in chain mail, but he managed well enough.

He was halfway up the wall when he felt a sudden gust of wind at his back. He braced, prepared to cling to the rock, but the force that ripped him off the rock was stronger than any storm. He was swinging helpless in midair, held only by the straps of his own shield. When he looked up, he saw a pair of terrible claws gripping the rim. 

Osric hadn't found the dragon. The dragon had found him.

It wheeled out over the chasm, and Osric looked down at his doom a thousand feet below. There was a river rushing there, swollen with snowmelt, a little silver ribbon from this great distance. The dragon turned again, and now the rock wall was rushing up to meet him. Osric prepared to be dashed against the side of the mountain, but instead the dragon backwinged in another great gust and slowed its descent. It dropped him on a second ledge, much smaller and higher, before the cave he'd been climbing towards. 

He rolled on impact and fumbled at once for his sword and shield. The dragon wasted no time, crowding him toward the cave entrance. It was a strange move, since it had all the advantage in the air and less inside the cave, but it was only a dumb beast. This one was large even for a dragon, with red scales that gleamed dully in the spring sunshine. Some other knight must have battled this beast before and lost, because a healed-over scar crossed the dragon's right eye.

Osric got his shield out in front of him and raised his sword, trying not to let his arms tremble. The wild flight had sapped his courage and his legs felt weak and uncertain beneath him. The dragon advanced, and he retreated, then lunged in an attempted to catch it off guard. It seized his shield in its foreclaws again and wrenched it away. Osric hadn't had the time to strap it to his forearm again, and he was glad of it, because the dragon would have wrenched his arm out of its socket. He attacked again at once, slashing wildly at the dragon's exposed neck. It reared up and batted his sword away, so that he only scored a shallow cut across its belly.

He backed up out of its reach and tried to circle. The corridor was large, but not so large a dragon couldn't block it with its wings half-spread, and the next blow landed on the heavy scales above the wing bones where it could do no damage. The dragon drew breath and roared, a deafening sound in the enclosed space. Osric stumbled backwards, fearing flame. His foot caught on something on the floor and he went down hard. It was the head of a stone knight, frozen in a stern expression. The statue it had come from was in a recessed nook on the wall, a headless body gripping a spear.

The dragon was on him at once, tearing at his armor. Osric thrust up with his sword, but the naked steel met empty air. A heavy clawed foot descended on his sword arm, trapping it.

Osric struggled to get away, twisting in the dragon's grip and trying desperately to get leverage. Its breath was hot on his face, not the moist wet heat of any ordinary beast, but the dry scorching of fire. It grabbed him with a foreclaw and hauled him upright, pulling his sword away as it did so. It let go of him then, but only to seize his sword, which it kicked back along the corridor. Osric watched horrified as the steel spun and flashed down the stone floor and out over the edge. Would a dumb beast have known to disarm him? He envied the headless statue's spear, but it was made of stone, not wood and steel.

He turned to flee further into the mountain, but the dragon pounced on him again, pinning him to the ground with a heavy foot on his back. The dragon's body was as large and nearly as heavy as a draft horse, and he didn't have the strength to fight it. Did it mean to crush him to death? Would that tenderize his meat?

He felt claws once again scrabbling at his chainmail, pushing the protective armor up over his hips in an effort to find a wear spot. The dragon managed to get a claw hooked in his trousers and split the fabric by yanking at it, then did it again. Osric felt the cold hem of his hauberk brushing against the bare skin of his buttocks, and tried fruitlessly to break free from the dragon's hold. He was trembling all over and felt strangely exposed.

The dragon nosed at his neck, its breath as hot as a furnace. It had moved its leg from Osric's back. He managed to push up onto his hands and knees before the dragon settled over him, boxing him in with its legs. He pushed with all his might, driving his back up into the dragon's belly. It was a futile gesture. He could do no real damage in this position. All he managed to do was shake loose the last shreds of his trousers. He was fully exposed from the waist down now, and the combined indignity and terror nearly undid him.

He would have collapsed sobbing on the floor if he hadn't felt a blunt object pushing up against his asshole. The sensation was so unexpected that it shocked him out of the emotion that had nearly overwhelmed him. The dragon shifted minutely above him, rubbing that same object up against him, and Osric realized with fresh terror that he was being mounted.

It pressed into him, though he tried to clench against it, and almost immediately he felt a hot rush of fluid pulsing from the dragon's cock. He thought the worst was over, but the dragon was only easing its own passage; what he'd thought was the whole cock was only the head, and it began to push deeper inside him. He couldn't hold back a sob this time, and scrabbled fruitlessly against the rock, but his attempts to push the dragon away only spurred it to fuck him faster and deeper. By the time he felt the scales at the base of its cock pressed up against the skin of his buttocks, he felt as though he was being split in two.

The dragon's rhythm grew faster. Its cock pulsed again, and Osric felt more fluid pulsing out inside him. He realized to his horror that his own cock was growing hard. The dragon's seed was having a strange effect on him, heady as unwatered wine. He didn't feel pain anymore, only an overwhelming fullness inside him.

The dragon's penis developed a thicker bulb at the base. Osric felt it slamming up against his rim, and tried again to clench, but whatever the dragon had pumped into him left him strangely pliable. With a final push, the dragon breeched him, then fucked him faster with the strange swelling bumping up against his insides. It was catching at a spot that made stars dance behind Osric's eyelids when he squeezed them shut. Nothing about this should feel good, and yet he found himself trembling in a new way beneath the dragon's bulk.

The swollen portion was moving up the dragon's cock, further and further into Osric's insides as it pounded into him. At last it popped free, with another gush of seed to push it deeper inside, and Osric realized the dragon had laid an egg inside him. Despite his swimming head and the strange laxity in his limbs, he tried yet again to fight out of the dragon's grip. No man could possibly survive being bred by a dragon. Surely the eggs would hatch and eat their way out of him. That must be why the dragon had taken him alive, so its young would have fresh meat, not a rotten feast.

Struggling did him no good. The dragon only redoubled its efforts, and soon there was another egg slamming into Osric's hole. He felt tears streaming from his eyes, but his cock was as hard as the stone beneath him. When the dragon began to fuck its egg deep inside him, he tried to resist the feeling building in him, but couldn't stop himself from coming as the egg popped free and the dragon pumped him full of seed.

There was another egg, and then another. By the time the fifth egg was being pushed through his entrance, Osric's belly was round and aching. He'd come twice more, feeling shame even as he'd shouted in terrible pleasure. Now his cock was slapping against his swollen middle as the dragon fucked him ruthlessly. He was still achingly hard. He could feel the eggs settling inside him, heavy and bathed in the dragon's seed. The final egg popped out, and he came again with a sob, coating his protruding belly with his own seed and the dragon pumped gout after gout of fluid into him.

The dragon sighed in what seemed like contentment and drew its cock out of him. Osric was left on his hands and knees, with his ass in the air. He whimpered and scrambled away, turning to face the dragon. Seed trickled out of his abused hole as he got to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. He felt better with the hauberk once again covering him, even though his trousers were little more than a mess of cloth hobbling his feet. He put a hand on his belly and felt it swelling beneath the cold links of mail. Would the dragon kill him at once? Or would it let him live long enough to hatch its horrible brood.

The dragon sighed again and stretched its long neck out, nosing at Osric's midsection where it had left its eggs. Osric sobbed and stumbled backwards, terrified of being touched again. He kicked off the remains of his trousers and took off, running as best he could with this strange new weight sloshing about inside him. The dragon let him go.


	2. Growing

Osric found a room off the main corridor where he thought he might die in a little comfort. He'd found the remains of a straw mattress inside, not too moldy at all despite its great age, and a chest containing a blanket he could use to cover his abused body. He wore his hauberk all the time, afraid of feeling exposed. The dragon visited him daily, and Osric cowered when the beast stuck its head in the door, but it only dropped bits of meat for him to eat. It took care to sear every haunch it brought him with fire, as though it knew he couldn't eat meat raw.

After that first week of pure terror, Osric's fear faded in the face of curiosity. If he was doomed to die, perhaps he could find a more comfortable spot to do it in. The straw mattress was going to pieces beneath him, and he found his back aching from the weight of the eggs at his front. He began wandering the labyrinth that had been carved in the rock, looking for information about its previous inhabitants. The dragon had disposed of his sword, but it had left him his shield, so he had the wizard's lights to see by where there wasn't a convenient shaft bored up to sunlight.

The dragon riders' complex was bigger than he'd imagined. It wasn't the size of a genuine castle, but then again the riders had little need for staff or for the entourage every lord required around him. The tapestries on the walls had been eaten away by moths, leaving only a faint dye stain and a few frayed threads, but they'd been grand once. There was a wizard's apothecary of sorts, although most of the healing herbs had crumbled to dust. He found a hall for feasting, its singular table empty, and sat alone on a bench wondering what this place must have been like in its glory days. There was no raised dais and no obvious lord's table, only one long table that looked equally grand from either end. Generations of riders had carved their names into its polished wooden surface. Osric found messages too, simple statements like _Godwin beat Beorn at sparring again today_ and _Too close to laying to fight, what a bore._

Once he got used to the strange way his belly protruded, it was easy enough to walk and even to run through the halls. He found what must have been the sleeping quarters, although each room was big enough for a king, with a wide entrance bigger than any door. The beds were carved right into the stone, low to the ground, with a massive space beside them big enough for a dragon to sleep comfortably. Osric realized the first time he slept there that they were made for dragon; his own beast had curled up beside him in the night, and was twitching in its slumber. When he sat up it did too, and yawned with a great gust of air that warmed the whole chamber. 

Osric, shaking, stood and tried to walk around it. It nuzzled up against him in apparent pleasure, pinning him to the wall with its bulk, and reared up to take him from behind. Osric whimpered, afraid he couldn't take another clutch of eggs, but this time the dragon's cock filled him only with seed. He felt again the strange drunkenness that had overtaken him. Bracing against the wall with one arm, he moved the other hand to his cock and began to pump in time with the dragon's movements. Again he felt the dizzying rush of pleasure, and came hard, streaking the wall. The dragon must have enjoyed feeling him clench around his cock, because it came too and nuzzled him with a strange tenderness before withdrawing.

A month had gone by before Osric thought to search the wizard's apothecary again. This time he found a door hidden behind a shelf. At first he couldn't think of how to open it, because there was no handle, only a carved depression in the shape of a man's hand beside another, deeper carving of a dragon's clawed footprint. When he pressed his hand to the carving, he felt a strange fluttering in his belly as if the eggs were shifting, and the door opened right up for him.

The wizard, or perhaps many generations of wizards, had taken meticulous notes on all the battles the dragon riders had fought. Osric amused himself with this history for nearly two weeks before he reached the scrolls so old they crumbled under even his careful fingertips. Next he tackled the lineages of the dragons, which seemed all mixed up with the lineages of the riders, until he realized the documents were one and the same. Men had come to this strange mountain, been joined with dragons, and--somehow--they'd given birth to more dragons.

Some of the knights had incredible broods, dozens of dragons in total. Osric touched his stomach nervously. It only stuck out a little, and didn't seem to be growing very fast, but five eggs had been more than enough for him. Looking at the records more carefully, he realized that the eggs had been laid in many clutches. So perhaps he wasn't doomed to die after all, at least not right away. How many times would the dragon breed him? How long could his body hold up?

He found the answer nearly two months in, when he'd moved on to the records covering the habits of dragons. They didn't breed their riders constantly, which the riders found a relief, since they'd be too clumsy in battle if they were always full of eggs. Dragons took a long time to gather the energy necessary to form eggs, and became ravenous while they did so. They could only produce a clutch every half decade or so. No wonder Osric's dragon had been raiding so many farms. It had been trying its best to develop its own clutch. And perhaps it had tried to carry off that farmboy as a mate before Osric came along.

The strangest parts of the records were the bits that seemed like the writer had spoken to a dragon himself. Osric's dragon didn't speak, although it did treat him with a strange kind of affection, nuzzling him and taking care to be gentle with his increasingly heavy belly. Osric even tried talking to it, asking it if it would fly him back down to the ground, but got only a puzzled look in response.

When the records began to bore him, he tried searching for a way out. By the time he'd mapped out the whole complex, he'd come to the depressing conclusion that there wasn't one. The dragon riders had been able to reach their home only with the help of their mounts. No doubt they'd planned it that way on purpose. Visitors without dragons of their own could come up the stairs to the ledge Osric had found, to be flown up to the true entrance. Their fortress was perfectly defensible; no one but a madman would risk climbing that cliff or trying to rappel down from the peak to reach the entrance.

Come to think of it, the wizards had written about the good King Harold as if he were mad. Perhaps to them he did seem that way, with his insistence that dragons had to die. Osric sympathized with him, but maybe the riders had their own reasons for refusing to leave their mounts.

Privately, he was beginning to worry that he was developing a similar sympathy for his dragon. It was sleeping beside him every night now, and more often than not, when he woke up it would rise and fuck him against the wall. Or he'd brace himself against the bed, with his elbows on the mattress and his knees on the floor, with his belly hanging beneath him. He always came at least once, often twice, and enjoyed for hours afterwards the relaxed feeling that came from being filled with the dragon's seed. 

His body seemed to be working different now, adapting to the dragon's needs. Whatever had lodged the eggs inside him seemed to stop him from passing waste. This panicked him for a while, until he found a book all about what happened to riders when they were carrying eggs, and learned that the eggs took every scrap of energy from their riders' guts in order to grow. He tried for a few days to starve himself, but the dragon became despondent and left him more and more food. Osric grew so ravenous that in the end he devoured a whole chicken and half a leg of lamb.

The eggs were doing even stranger things to his insides. Even when the dragon hadn't just fucked him, his hole felt more pliant, and when he put his finger inside he drew it out covered in a clear, slick fluid. He tried a few times to birth them already, squatting and pushing with all his might, but the eggs didn't shift and he only succeeded in dripping a puddle on the floor. When he pushed against his swollen, he could feel the eggs under his skin. They felt softer than he'd expected. The book said that they stayed soft and flexible inside, so they wouldn't tear their bearers on the way out, and their shells only hardened after they were laid.

The strangest thing about the book was that it had a whole section he could read but couldn't understand at all. It was all about how carrying eggs created the final link between a rider and his dragon, connecting body to body and mind to mind. This all seemed like wizards' nonsense, but as the weeks wore on Osric wondered whether he was developing the same connection with his dragon. They always seemed to come at the same time now, he noticed, and the dragon knew when he was hungry and when he wanted to be mounted. To his shame, Osric wanted to be mounted most days now, and sometimes in the afternoon as well as the morning. He'd wake up with his cock already hard. He tried waiting until the dragon was gone to take his pleasure, but touching himself in private never seemed to satisfy him. 

By the fourth month, Osric's belly had gotten to big for him to wear his hauberk comfortably. His padded aketon beneath it was straining at its fastenings. He ended up leaving off his hauberk for a couple of weeks, just to see if he could feel comfortable without it, and by the time he tried it on again he couldn't pull the mail over the swell of his belly. He had to go about with his aketon fastened only over his chest, exposing the tunic beneath it.

It wasn't comfortable at all to have nothing covering his legs, especially after the dragon had taken him and left him with seed dripping down his thighs. He searched for any clothing the riders might have worn, and found a chest covered in glowing wizards' symbols. This was in a room he hadn't been able to figure out of the purpose of at first; its floor was sloped toward the center, not flat, with a pit charred by flame. With the help of the wizards' records, he realized that this was the spot where the eggs were laid and kept warm by the dragons until they hatched. Osric couldn't imagine how the eggs would come out of him, since they'd felt large enough going in, and they were growing bigger inside him. At least the warded chest had kept the robes he found free from moths. They were loose, designed to drape over a growing belly, and they covered him to the knee.

His supply of clothing wasn't unlimited, and the dragon would tear at his clothes when it wanted access to his ass, so Osric got in the habit of hiking the robes up when he was ready to be entered. By the sixth month it was twice a day at the least, and the book said he still had six months to go. Not only did he wake up hard in the morning, but he'd get hard as soon as the dragon returned from a hunt. He couldn't tell whether the dragon was responding to his lust or whether he was responding to the dragon. Their urges seemed to be converging, until he felt the dragon's wild thrill for hunting when it swooped from the ledge, and it felt his hunger for both food and sex.

By the eighth month, the dragon's mind seemed to be a constant presence at the back of his. Osric couldn't run through the halls anymore, and walking for too long left his back and his feet aching. The eggs were heavy in his guts, pushing his belly further and further outwards. There were no illustrations in the wizard's book, and Osric wasn't sure how much bigger he was going to get. Would he be able to walk at all by the end? How would he get to the room where he was supposed to lay the eggs?

At ten months, Osric was beginning to worry about getting through without human help. The dragon was increasingly tender with him, but it had to leave to find him fresh meat, and the eggs were so large now that getting around was becoming a problem. Osric might not have to shit, but pissing was still a concern, and it was difficult to aim for a chamber pot without being able to see his own cock. His back ached frequently and he could feel strange movements from the eggs. The dragonlings inside him were developed enough that they were beginning to move within the flexible shells. He found recipes for potions that would calm their restlessness, but without any herbs, he had no way of brewing them.

He realized when he was watching the dragon swooping from the ledge that the solution to his problems was right in front of him. They understood each other well enough now that the very same afternoon, the dragon found him and knelt in front of him. Osric climbed up onto the dragon's back, surprised by how easy it was to hold on to the ridge of scales that flowed down its neck and spread across its powerful shoulders. The dragon walked down the hallway, and just as Osric started to regret his decision, it launched itself and him with it into the sky.

The flight was dizzying, and Osric wondered if he was still drunk on the dragon's seed, although they'd last fucked hours beforehand. He wasn't at all afraid of falling. He wasn't even sure, looking out over the landscape, whether he was seeing the world through his own eyes or through the dragon's. There, off in the distance, was the farm the dragon had harassed. Further still would be his lord's castle, and his lord had a wizard who could help him.

It took the better part of a month to convince the dragon Osric needed to be back in the land of men. Just getting up in the morning was becoming a struggle. Osric would wake up with his hard cock pressing up against his enormous belly, and the dragon would have to help him sit up and then get off the bed into the kneeling position he favored for sex. Being pressed up against the wall was difficult with such a big clutch at his front. They even tried it with the dragon belly-up and Osric on top, but lifting his bulk in that position was tricky, and his cock ended up trapped between his own distended gut and the dragon's scales. The ancient riders had built a wooden frame for heavily pregnant men to brace themselves with, but years of hard use followed by neglect hadn't been kind to the device, and it collapsed when Osric tried to use it.

By the eleventh month, he'd prepared for the journey to his lord's castle. He made a carrying satchel out of a spare robe and took as many books as he could bring with him. The text about what was happening to his body was a necessity, of course, but he wanted to bring along some of the riders' history books as well. King Harold had been wrong after all to demand the dragons' deaths. Osric hadn't chosen his dragon, but he'd sooner rebel against his king than kill it.

He had to leave his hauberk behind. He hadn't been able to get it on in months, anyway. He strapped his shield onto his back, and to his surprise, his dragon brought him his sword. It hadn't fallen into the river after all, only onto the lower ledge. The edge was badly chipped by the fall, but Osric felt better returning without his defeat being quite so immediately apparent. He couldn't fit his sword belt comfortably under his belly, so he hung the scabbard from the shield's strap instead. He climbed onto his dragon, and they set off for his lord's castle.


	3. Birthing

Osric had caused quite a commotion by turning up when everyone thought he was dead. At first he was afraid the dragon would be shot out of the sky, but it was wary enough to fly clear of arrows. They were so closely linked now that he understood his dragon's history as if it were his own. It was from the last clutch birthed at the mountain, and had been raised expecting to be paired with a rider. King Harold's troops had distracted the riders by giving battle and snuck into the mountain while the riders were gone. The dragon had killed the knight who gave it the scar across its eye, but it had been a near thing.

It was a near thing again when they landed on the practice grounds--the best spot Osric could think of where he'd be recognized at once--and a dozen brave men and boys came rushing up with weapons raised. The swords in their hands were blunted for practice, but solid steel could still hurt if it were swung with enough force. He staggered off the dragon's back and called out to the master of arms, who'd trained him. Master Cynn looked at first as if he'd seen a ghost, and then ran forward to embrace him.

It was when he tried to crush Osric in his arms that he realized Osric's robe was draped across an enormous belly. This caused a new flurry of confusion and shouting, and Cynn would have attacked the dragon in earnest if Osric hadn't threatened to climb back on its back and fly away again. At last he convinced Cynn to send for the wizard, who was a sensible man. The eggs were practically roiling inside him with all the excitement, and he didn't help his case by having to stop and clutch at his middle.

At last the wizard arrived. He was a young man, too slim to be properly handsome, but the way he listened without immediately shouting made him a hero in Osric's eyes. Osric turned over the texts, and was at last convinced to leave his dragon, but only when the wizard and Cynn both swore it wouldn't be harmed. Convincing the wizard to brew the potion he needed took some time. First the wizard wanted to look over the books he'd brought, reading ten times faster than Osric could puzzle out the words, and doing it silently without even moving his lips. 

Next he wanted to examine Osric. Feeling ashamed of his condition for the first time in month, Osric hiked his robe up and let the wizard run his soft hands over the stretched skin of his belly, pressing down now and again to feel the eggs inside. The wizard didn't stop there. He had Osric lie back on a cot and spread his legs. Osric couldn't see what the wizard was doing, but he could feel the wizard prodding at his entrance. It was slick and giving, since the dragon had fucked him in the morning and then again just before their departure. The wizard's fingers sunk deep into him. They felt insubstantial after the dragon's thickness, but his cock still hardened. As the wizard continued his investigation, he could feel the head of it brushing up against the curve of his belly, leaking a little wetness onto his bare skin. If the wizard found this unusual, he didn't show it; he had an expression of fierce curiosity on his face.

At last, the examination was complete. The wizard presented him with the potion. Osric drank it, and felt the painful thrashing inside him begin to ease. He'd pulled his robe back down, but his cock was still hard. His face felt as hot as the dragon's breath, and he was sure he was bright red.

The wizard kept him for nearly an hour longer, asking questions about the dragon's habits. Nothing was too indiscreet for him. He even asked about sex, and Osric explained the wooden frame he'd ruined.

"Perhaps that can be built for you," the wizard said, while Osric's cheeks burned. "But for today, since the dragon can't come inside, perhaps you should take care of yourself."

He gave Osric privacy to do it, but a half hour of fumbling produced no results. Osric hadn't touched his own cock to do anything but bathe and piss in months. When the dragon was fucking him, he'd come just from the sensation of its huge cock sliding inside him. Osric couldn't even get in a comfortable position. When he tried sitting on the edge of the cot, his huge belly got in the way. When he lay down, he could reach more easily, but the weight of the eggs distracted him.

The wizard came back inside when he was still at it and said, "Perhaps I can help you out."

"Please," Osric said, thinking the wizard had another potion for him, or perhaps knew a technique he hadn't tried. Following the wizard's instructions, he ended up with his elbows on the work table. He only realized what the wizard intended when he felt his robe being lifted and a cock entering his ass. It was much slimmer and shorter than the dragon's, but still substantial enough for what he needed. He came almost immediately, nearly sobbing in relief. The wizard kept going, pounding away nearly silently except for the occasional suppressed grunt of pleasure. Osric came again before the wizard finally stiffened behind him and let out a choked off groan.

The next day, he had an audience with his lord. Lord Wyman had already spoken to his wizard, and looked on Osric's condition more kindly than he'd expected. It was still embarrassing to stand before the high table, with his robes lifting halfway up his thighs in the front because there was only so much cloth to drape over his belly, while Osric's former brothers in arms gawked at him. Lord Wyman spoke about King Harold's irrational fear of dragons, and how it was time to see whether they were fit to live among men again. Osric was no politician, but reading between the lines, he understood that Lord Wyman's real interest was having such a compelling military advantage over his neighbors. One knight on a dragon was the equal of ten or even twenty on horses.

He was allowed to visit the dragon again in the afternoon. There was no private space for them to fuck in the busy grounds of the castle, so they flew to an empty field and coupled there. Osric needed the dragon's foreleg curled around his chest to stay upright as the dragon fucked him relentlessly. It was a relief to come with the dragon's cock buried to the hilt in his ass, even though he did have to clean himself up with handfuls of grass afterwards.

The wizard had given him a room next to his own, so he could check on Osric in the night and brew a fresh potion whenever he needed one. When Osric retired after dinner, he wasn't surprised that the wizard followed him in a few minutes later. He got up on his hands and knees and let the wizard take him from behind again. It wasn't as good as having sex with the dragon, but he could feel the dragon at the back of his mind, taking pleasure from the feeling of the wizard's cock slamming into him. The wizard had read the same book as him, after all; it wasn't unusual at all for riders to enjoy having sex with men as well as dragons.

Two days later, when someone entered his room after dark, Osric immediately got up onto his knees. The hands on his hips were rougher this time, not the wizard's soft fingers. The man began speaking as he pushed into Osric, muttering sweet nothings about the value of clutch of eggs he was carrying, and Osric realized that he was being mounted by Lord Wyman. He tried to moan in an encouraging way, but his lord needed no encouragement to fuck him. He seemed to enjoy running his hand over every part of Osric's belly he could reach in this position.

Things continued much like this for the final month of Osric's pregnancy. The wizard did indeed make sure that the frame Osric had described was built for him. Unfortunately for him, the only spot with enough space was the training grounds, so Osric had decide whether getting fucked in comfort was worth letting everyone he knew see. Desire won out over discretion, and Osric had to turn his head away and pretend not to notice how intently some of the young men were watching the scene. There were five eggs now, and there would be more when the dragon was ready to breed again. Many of Lord Wyman's knights would find themselves in his position soon enough.

By the last week of the year, Osric was ready to be done with the eggs, even though he was nervous about how they would come out. His backside felt looser than ever. He was always slick now, and not just from being fucked so often. The wizard spent a long time feeling him inside and out, amazed by how easily his whole hand disappeared inside Osric's passage. He claimed that he'd managed to grab ahold of the nearest egg, but it was stuck fast and wouldn't move.

Osric woke up in the middle of the night. His cock was hard, as it always was now when he rose, but there was a new urgency to his desire to be filled. He could feel the dragon waking up too, and its presence in his mind wasn't immediately thinking about sex. Instead, it was assuring him that everything would go well today--but beneath the confidence was a touch of nerves that had Osric wondering what would happen to him.

He put a hand to his massive stomach and felt it clench. He groaned as the contraction took him. His cock leaped with it. The feeling wasn't entirely painful, but it was intense. He struggled to get upright, then to squat beside the bed, clutching at his enormous belly as he tried to force the eggs out.

He must have made enough noise to wake up the wizard. The man came running in, and immediately realized that Osric was in labor. He had Osric lie back with his legs spread, and felt for the eggs once again. Nothing had moved yet, but another contraction his Osric as the wizard's hand was inside him, and he came from the force of the sensation.

The wizard chivvied him to stand up and walk around as he labored. Osric managed it for an hour or so, until he felt the first egg dropping inside him. He squatted again, with the wizard behind him supporting his shoulders, and pushed as hard as he could. The egg was huge, so big he had no idea how it was going to come out of him. He moaned as another contraction hit along with another orgasm, so powerful he couldn't feel anything but pleasure as the egg finally slipped free.

There was no time to rest before the next egg was ready to come out. Osric could feel his cock, still hard against his belly, already leaking precome in anticipation of the next overwhelming wave of sensation. He groaned through the combination of pleasure and pain again as he felt the next egg breaching him, and came again with a sharp cry.

The contractions were coming faster and faster, until finally the last egg slipped out of him and his cock grew soft. He could feel the dragon's satisfaction with him, a warm presence in his mind. The wizard seemed satisfied too. He cleaned the eggs first, then Osric, gently running a damp cloth over his stomach and between his legs. Osric felt strangely empty after carrying the eggs for so long, but content he'd managed to carry them all safely. With Lord Wyman's help, he'd be the first of a new generation of dragon riders. In his mind, the dragon agreed, and reminded him with excitement that in only five years it would be time for Osric to carry its eggs again.


End file.
